Moving Out

Sail my ship
right up the side of the world
rope running through my hands.
Lips of salt.
The canvas snaps and catches air
like a greedy bandit.
Circe, is my one passenger.
She tosses boys into the water,
to pass her time
turning all who displease her into otters and fish.
She looks into the wind, face smooth,
eyes black
shining like stars.
She has little to say.
I turn the boat
toward unnatural angles
changing up to down,
chasing the sides
running against the tide
and into Northern winds.
I clamp down hard
determined to catch
the sweet in life
and metal bites rope.
All my weight in,
my feet set,
I hit the rudder with the full of my will,
into the wind,
into change,
hair streaming,
hands burning,
into the future.